


The Legate

by apolesen



Category: Star Trek - Various Authors, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Background Relationships, Character Study, Childhood, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon Cardassia, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23444392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apolesen/pseuds/apolesen
Summary: Some childhood interests do not let go easily, however out of character they might seem.
Relationships: Elim Garak/Kelas Parmak
Comments: 11
Kudos: 22





	The Legate

‘Give him back!’ 

‘Why should I?’ 

Terek held the figurine higher. However much he tried, even going up on tiptoes, Kelas could not reach it. 

‘ _Please_ , give him back!’ He was trying not to cry, but his eyes were filling with tears. It made Terek grin even more. 

‘Why do you care?’ he asked. ‘You never play with them.’ 

‘Yes I do!’ Kelas said and stomped his foot. ‘Now give him back - he needs to be on the shelf with the rest of the Order! They can’t be without the Legate!’ 

‘Well I’ve captured your legate, so now he’s mine!’ his cousin said. 

‘That’s not how it works!’ 

‘Yes it is!’

‘You’re too old to play with soldiers! You said so yourself!’ Kelas objected.

‘Well I’ve changed my mind. Besides, you can’t even join the military. Why should you have toy soldiers? 

‘That’s not fair!’ The tears were falling now. All he could think of was his toy soldiers, all lined up on the shelf, and the spot where the legate should be. It shouldn’t matter, really. He had some brevet stickers from the kit he got for his hatch-day, so he could make one of the guls a legate, but it wasn’t about that. That figurine was his favourite. He had been a special issue and had a different face than the other soldiers. 

‘Give him back!’ he pleaded. ‘I’ll give you anything, just give him back!’ 

Terek raised his brow-ridged, intrigued, but before he could speak, someone stepped into the room. 

‘What is going on here?’ Arys Parmak asked. 

‘Mother, he took my legate!’ Kelas said, pointing up at the figure in Terek’s hand. Arys’ eyes narrowed. She stepped closer and put her hand out. 

‘Give it here.’

Terek hesitated for only a moment, then put the toy in her hand. 

‘You should know better, Terek. You’re almost thirteen.’

He hung his head. 

‘Yes, Aunt Arys.’ 

‘Apologise to your cousin.’ 

‘Sorry, Kelas,’ he muttered. 

Arys looked at her son. 

‘Kelas?’

‘I accept your apology,’ he said. 

‘There,’ Arys said. ‘All better.’ The look she gave Terek was not kind, though. ‘Why don’t you go see if your uncle needs any help?’ 

He left, still hanging his head. Once he had gone, Arys crouched down. 

‘There you go.’ She held out the legate, and Kelas took it carefully. She smiled. ‘No harm done.’ 

‘No harm done,’ he said, although he was still looking the legate over for damage. He could not find any. Arys leaned closer and pressed her cheek against her son’s for a moment.The frames of their glasses bumped together. 

‘Put him back on the shelf and come help me in the kitchen, alright?’ She rose and gave him a smile. He smiled back. His mother turned and left. Kelas looked back at his legate. He would have offered Terek the rest of his toy soldiers to get him back, even if having a legate without soldiers did not really make sense. He was not sure why he was ready to do that. He just liked him, better than the other soldiers that all had the same faces and the same poses. Brushing him off on his sleeve, Kelas put him back on his spot on the shelf in front of the rest of the Order.

⁂

In the wreckage of Cardassia Prime, you watched where you put your feet. There were countless dangers on and beneath the ground: sharp pieces of metal, unexploded shells and all manner of pits and holes. There were plenty of useful things too – tools, food, clothing. They had all become scavengers to some extent.

Kelas had a good haul today by simply walking from the field hospital to Elim’s shed. He put the battery packs and screwdriver he had found at the door, then headed over to what was left of the garden pond. He washed off his other finds there – this was an idle obsession, and not one to waste clean water on. He got the worst off in the pond, then cleaned them with a little rubbing alcohol. He did not want to bring anything potentially harmful into Elim’s home. 

Elim was sitting on the bed reading when Kelas stepped inside. 

‘I found some battery packs,’ he said. ‘Hopefully there’s enough in them to let us reboot the generator if we need to.’ 

Elim hummed his acknowledgement, then looked up. Spotting the handkerchief Kelas was holding, he asked: 

‘How many is it this time?’ 

‘Four.’ 

Elim snorted. 

‘I don’t see why you of all people care about those things. It’s very out of character.’ 

‘Sentimentality, I suppose. Besides, we all have our quirks. You were an agent of the Obsidian Order, and you look for flowers when you go out.’ 

‘That’s different. I care about the local ecosystem.’ 

‘Of course, dear.’ 

Kelas crossed to the shelf where he kept his few belongings. Carefully, he took each toy soldier from the folds of the handkerchief and placed them with the others. They were all different makes and sizes. The paint was flaking off them all, and several were missing limbs. Those, he had propped up against each other. 

He did not know why he collected them. In some way, it was to make sure that no children played with them. They had to break out of this obsession with the military if Cardassia were to survive. But if that was all, he could have just thrown them away, and there were far worse threats to their future. He did not need to collect these little figurines and display them like this. 

They must represent something other than the glorification of the military that he so hated. It was a reminder of childhood. Every time he spotted the shape of a toy soldier in the dirt, he had a moment of hope that it would be him – the legate with the expressive face that he had loved so much. It was unlikely of course. The type had been rare even when he was a child, and that had been fifty years ago. But maybe, someday, he would find him. When he did, it might be the end of his collecting, or it might start it anew. 

Kelas rearranged two of the soldiers that had fallen, leaning them against each other to compensate for their missing legs.


End file.
